


Come Just Far Enough

by absofruitlynot



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Episode: s01e15 Scary Sherry: Bianca's Toast, F/M, Season/Series 01, not entirely canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23209696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absofruitlynot/pseuds/absofruitlynot
Summary: They’re sitting on the couch in the now-quiet sorority house, discussing the case. She likes the way he listens – the way he absorbs her ideas, turns them over in his mind. He takes her seriously, which is more than can be said for most of her male coworkers.Except now, at some point, they had gone from working to flirting.
Relationships: Juliet O'Hara/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 9
Kudos: 50





	Come Just Far Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Social distancing = re-watching and writing stories about television that aired 15 years ago.

Shawn pokes around in the sorority house parlor while Juliet makes sure the girls get to bed safely at the Omega Mu’s, trying her best not to come off as too maternal – or cop-like. She’s lucky to have that over-sincerity of a sorority sister to fall back on – her very real concern is easy to disguise as the faux concern that they are used to showing each other. She leans against the bathroom doorway and watches as the last few girls carry out their intricate nighttime beauty rituals, and she thinks a little triumphantly about a comment Lassiter made about her being high-maintenance for stopping to fix her hair after a chase – he doesn’t know how easy he has it. (Besides, between the two of them? Come on.) 

“How do you know that guy, again?”

Betty is looking at Juliet intently. She is shrewd and suspicious, for good reason – but too suspicious, maybe? And clearly in charge.

Juliet shrugs, brightly. “He solved my friend’s brother’s fake kidnapping and she would _not_ shut up about how crazy the whole thing was!”

“He’s really cute!” another girl pipes in. They all giggle, clearly relieved to think about anything but ghosts and suicides and haunted houses. Betty is not so easily distracted.

“So are you two, like, a thing?”

Juliet feels herself blush, a little. She’s surprised to find that she’s tempted to say yes – maybe it would help her cover, and maybe some leftover part of her from high school and undergrad wants to see if it would make these girls jealous, or at least a little intrigued. But she resists, partly because she knows that Shawn being able to flirt with these girls is, annoyingly, a pretty good strategy in this case.

“No way!! He didn’t even like, remember my name just now. Plus, the psychic thing? I don’t want a guy knowing all of my thoughts!”

Maybe she intentionally lets herself sound a little unconvincing. But they laugh, and the strange interrogation is over.

* * *

They’re sitting on the couch in the now-quiet sorority house, discussing the case. She likes the way he listens – the way he absorbs her ideas, turns them over in his mind. He takes her seriously, which is more than can be said for most of her male coworkers.

Except now, at some point, they had gone from working to flirting.

“These pajamas are _ah-_ dorable, Detective O’Hara, are they standard issue?”

She gives him a look. “No, these are from my personal collection.”

He sighs. “Too bad. Lassie would look scrumptious in a pair of these bad boys.” He taps one of the little dogs in the pattern just above her knee. She grins, ignoring the little thread of nerves working its way through her.

There is really no reason for them to stick around here any longer, but she’s enjoying this chance to just be herself after days of Mary Lou. She also rarely gets to be alone with Shawn, relaxing like this, so she’s fine taking her time. She leans back and curls her feet under her, while he abandons the – well, the evidence – he’d been fidgeting with and stretches his left arm across the back of the couch.

Shawn launches into a story about a trio of sorority sisters he met once in Phoenix that is almost certainly only half-true, at best. She lets him go on, tracking every improbable escalation of supposed events, and waits for the perfect time to call him on it.

It’s taking some time, though, because she's getting a little distracted by the fingers that have started twirling the ends of a lock of her hair behind the couch. Their knees are almost touching, but they’re not in dangerous territory yet. It’s been a careful dance – not unenjoyable – and while this is a little further than they usually go, she still has some sense of control over it all. Besides, they’re alone, and somewhat off the clock – and she’s Mary Lou tonight, anyway. 

Something creaks outside – the wind, or something – and they both start a little. The climax (so to speak) of his story is cut off as their eyes meet again, equal parts laughter and trepidation in their looks. And they'd shifted closer; her knee presses into his thigh, her shoulder into his forearm – but neither move any further.

“I’m glad the sisters of Beta Kappa Theta have such a protective National Alumni Vice Parliamentarian to look after them,” he says. His tone is still flirtatious but sincerity has poked its way through to the surface. He taps her knee again, and this time his hand comes to rest there – lightly, but unmistakably.

“Lucky she happens to know a psychic detective,” Juliet answers quietly, a little earnestly, and good Lord, that was a mistake, because now his smile is _soft_ and his eyes have brightened just _so._

“Lucky indeed.” He’s still looking at her; he hasn’t moved but she doesn’t need to read his mind to tell he’s about to strike. And sure enough, his hand is on the back of her neck and his other is sliding up her thigh as he leans in.

And, shit, he can _kiss._

He smiles against her lips, as if he can sense the remainder of her hesitancy melting away. He nips at her bottom lip, teasing her mouth open, brushing his tongue against hers. One of her hands lands on his bicep -- who gave him the right to be _firm_ \-- and the fingers of the other stroke into the hair on the nape of his neck. She feels a chuckle rumble in his chest as he presses himself nearer to her, moving into the space she has created between her knees. 

All of her reasons for resisting this are much harder to focus on as his hand reaches her hip, holds her firm as they lean further and further back into the couch. There’s a thumb on her collarbone and the pads of a few fingers stroking the soft skin just under her shirt and she is absolutely _screwed._

“Jules,” he breathes against her jaw.

Excluding that, this is maybe the longest he has gone without talking in the entirety of their acquaintance. And boy, is she enjoying it. Maybe she lets him slide his hand further up to her ribs, and maybe she is running her palms over the warm skin of his back, relishing the thrill of the weight of him above her. 

There’s another abrupt noise outside the house, and this time it’s significant enough for them both to jerk in reaction, whether in panic or a protective instinct or some combination of the two -- it’s unclear. They flinch simultaneously, her one way and him the other, and then they’re rolling, tipping off the couch.

“Shit—”

“Oh, god—”

They land hard, roll, and end up still tangled together, his arms braced around her face, eyes focused on her lips. She can feel his heartbeat, and her own heart is still fluttering – but slowing, a little. 

“Shawn…” He lifts his gaze back to face her. “We really should get out of here.”

He nods, and she thinks he gets that she doesn’t mean _get out of here_ get out of here, just… leave, lock up, part ways, regroup. But then he looks down, then back up through those damn lashes, and her thoughts fly to the possibilities still hanging between them. 

“To be clear, you _are_ my ride.”

She pushes him away from her with a palm to his forehead, hoping he doesn’t see her smile.

**Author's Note:**

> We can’t "prove" that they didn’t briefly make out on the sorority house couch and then never speak of it again!
> 
> Title from "Secret Garden" by the boss. 
> 
> Anyway, stay healthy, wash your hands, etc.


End file.
